


Hadrian's Wall

by Roshwen



Series: Field trips [7]
Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: A tiny bit of Cassandra whump, And a Hot Tub Scene at the End, And a field trip to make things better, Angst and Fluff, Because field trips always do, Especially when Stone can get his History Nerd on, Even Ezekiel might learn to enjoy the outdoors, If that does not get you reading I don't know what will honestly, M/M, Roman History, Stone Family Drama, Technically OT3 but with a Jake/Ezekiel focus this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-15 16:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14793893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roshwen/pseuds/Roshwen
Summary: When the oil business of Jake's father finally collapses, Jake does not take it too well. Fortunately, Cassandra has a plan. Less fortunately, Ezekiel is the one who has to go with the cowboy because Cassandra has sprained her ankle and for this trip, you really kind of have to be able to walk.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's another field trip (almost literally this time)! I've been meaning to do this one for ages, because it is so perfect for Jake, but I couldn't figure out a way to do it. Now I do, and I'm happy with how this is turning out. Hope you enjoy!

It was the week in which everything went wrong.

It starts at Sunday afternoon, when Jake gets a phone call from his mother. This is not that unusual in itself, but what is unusual is this: it only lasts ten minutes, instead of the usual hour, and after he has hung up, Jake goes very quiet and then quickly retreats to one of the many empty rooms in the Library.

When Cassandra finally finds him, sitting on the ancient carpet and staring into empty space, it takes a long moment of heavy silence before he says, voice dull with defeat: ‘Company’s gone under.’

Cassandra says nothing. She just sits herself down and manages to catch him right in time as he starts to crack. Catches him and holds him as furious grief comes pouring out, and does not let go for a very long time.

\---

Then, three days later, they are running through a forest in Germany, trying to catch a Nachtkrapp, when suddenly there is a yelp and a crash of breaking branches. When Jake skids to a halt and turns, Cassandra is down on the ground, pale face contorted with pain and clutching at her ankle. They manage to get her back on to her feet, but she can’t walk on her own and it takes them a couple of hours before they reach the outer edge of the forest, where they finally find a shed with a door.

When they arrive back at the Annex, Jenkins takes one look at Cassandra limping in between Jake and Ezekiel, goes ‘oh dear’ and immediately takes her with him into his lab. There, after applying multiple foul smelling potions and poultices, he declares her unfit for Librarian duty for the next three weeks.

Cassandra is not pleased about this. Neither are Jake and Ezekiel, who nevertheless try everything they can to cheer her up and to make her as comfortable as possible.

They try their best, and even though they mean well, it only takes two days before Cassandra is practically yelling at them to leave her alone and stop smothering her. The impeding caged bird syndrome doesn’t help. Neither does the fact that Jake is fielding more and more phone calls every day, every call leaving him looking surlier and more upset than before. And when Cassandra and Ezekiel turn around and try to cheer _him_ up, the ensuing shouting match takes all of Eve Baird’s NATO counterterrorism diplomacy to cool things down again.

So. Unless someone does something, and _fast_ , it is only a matter of time before people end up getting murdered.

\---

‘Ezekiel?’

‘Yes, princess?’

‘Can you come over here and take a look?’

‘Sure.’ Ezekiel gets up and makes his way over to Cassandra’s desk. There, he takes one look at her laptop screen and frowns. ‘What am I looking at, exactly?’

Cassandra sits back, carefully shifting her bandaged leg into a more comfortable position. ‘It’s something I wanted to do for Jake. You know. To get his mind off things, but I can’t go with him. So I thought, maybe the two of you could go together.’

Ezekiel looks closer. Grabs the mouse and starts browsing the website a bit further before he decidedly shakes his head. ‘No. Nope, no way. I’m not doing this.’

 ‘Ezekiel, please.’

‘Sorry, princess. I love you, but you know I don’t agree with going outdoors.’

‘ _Please?_ It’s not for me, it’s for Jake. And I think the hotel at the end has a hot tub, if that helps.’

Pleading blue eyes meet obstinate brown. Ezekiel manages to hold Cassandra’s gaze for all of ten seconds before he sighs and scrubs his face with his hands. ‘I’ll think about it.’

\---

So that is how Ezekiel ends up in the Annex at 5 in the morning on a Friday, wearing brand new hiking boots and an equally brand new hiking backpack standing next to him. To sweeten the deal, Cassandra has packed them both breakfast and lunch for the first day, so there is a massive stack of sandwiches and fruit waiting on Ezekiel’s desk as well.

That’s the first thing Jake spots as he walks in, bleary-eyed and trying to conceal a jaw-cracking yawn. ‘Wow. We goin’ to the middle of nowhere or something?’

‘Something like that, yeah,’ Ezekiel replies as he makes his way over for a Good Morning Cowboy Kiss. As he pulls him close, Ezekiel can’t help but notice how Jake’s muscles are tense under his hoodie and coat. He squeezes a little tighter as he murmurs: ‘You sleep okay?’

Jake doesn’t reply, he just gives a half-shrug and a weary sigh. Which is enough to finally convince Ezekiel that Cassandra had the right idea in planning this outing, no matter how much he is probably going to hate it. ‘Come on,’ he says, pressing a kiss into Jake’s stubble before he draws back. ‘Let’s go.’

\---

One of the first and most important fears Ezekiel has about this trip proves unfounded the moment he opens the Back Door. Instead of pouring rain and soaking wet, muddy fields, the door opens to reveal a lush, rolling meadow, basking in the morning sunlight.

It’s a magnificent view: they can see for miles on end across the grass dotted with trees and bushes. The only sign of civilization nearby is the building the Back Door has locked on to. Otherwise there is nothing but grass and sky and sheep wandering by, letting out the occasional bleat. Light clouds sail by overhead and a fragrant breeze fills the air, tugging at Ezekiel’s hair as he grabs his backpack and steps out.

‘You wanna tell me where we are?’ Jake asks as he comes up to stand next to him, scanning around the area for landmarks.

Ezekiel grins. ‘You know the rules, cowboy. Try and figure it out for yourself first.’

‘It’s a field, Jones. What am I supposed to make of a field?’

That’s fair, so Ezekiel decides to take the cowboy by the hand and lead him around the corner of the building. ‘Does this help?’

It does. Because now Jake can see the low wall running along on the sloping hill behind them and Ezekiel can see from the cowboy’s face that he immediately recognizes that kind of stonework. Then he turns them both around, so that Jake can see the front of the building they just stepped out of, and waits patiently for the penny to drop completely.

‘Housesteads,’ Jake says slowly, reading the name written across the double glass doors. ‘Housesteads. As in _the Roman fortress_ Housesteads _?’_

Behind the double glass doors, the interior of the building is all too visible. The interior that is filled with Roman weaponry, ancient statues and tour guides wearing gaudy helmets and bright red cloaks.

‘The very same,’ Ezekiel says, grinning at the stunned delight on Jake’s face. ‘We’re gonna look at all the ancient, decrepit pieces of rock and bits of dirt your cowboy heart could want.’

‘All day long?’ Jake grins, turning and leaning in against Ezekiel, already looking happier and more relaxed than he has been in days.

‘No,’ Ezekiel says, wrapping an arm around Jake’s waist and nuzzling a kiss into that magnificent thatch of bear fur Jake likes to call hair. ‘Because according to Cass, we have to leave at 4pm at the latest if we want to make it to the B&B in time.’

Jake straightens up. Looks at the rolling hills beyond the tiny museum and then back to Ezekiel, taking in his unusual outdoorsy appearance of a wind- and waterproof jacket, the hiking boots and the backpack. ‘Where’re we going, exactly?’

\---

As Ezekiel explains to a Jake who seems more excited by the second, they are going to walk the Wall. _Hadrian’s_ Wall, to be exact. The border wall that Emperor Hadrian built in the north of England in 122 AD to keep the hordes of the Picts out of his nice and clean Roman Empire. In its glory days, the wall spanned 75 miles from west to east, standing 10 feet wide and 20 feet high in some places. Two millennia later, there are impressive stretches of it still standing, despite erosion, neglect and minor neighborhood lords looking for cheap materials to build their castles. Yes, recycling has been a thing in this area for ages.

There is also a long-distance footpath running alongside the Wall, all the way from the aptly named Wallsend in the east to Bowness-on-Solway in the west. For those people who are into that sort of thing, this means that you can walk the same path that the Roman soldiers did. All 75 bloody, blistered miles of it.

Fortunately, Cassandra had thought that a bit much and she has selected the best bits of the trail for her boys to walk. These bits runs from Housesteads, where they are now, to their first stop in Once Brewed (‘there’s a story behind that name,’ Jake snorts, and Ezekiel has to agree), and then tomorrow they finish their walk at Gilsland, where the promised hot tub should be waiting for them.

‘Doesn’t seem like something you’d be into,’ Jake says softly once Ezekiel has finished talking.

Ezekiel shrugs. ‘You needed to get out,’ he replies, just as softly and for that, Jake has to pull him close and kiss him so deeply, the entire Roman army could have marched by without either of them noticing.

‘Thank you,’ Jake whispers after they break apart. ‘I’ll… I’ll thank Cassie later, but you… thank you.’

‘That’s okay, cowboy,’ Ezekiel grins back. ‘You can thank me later too. Now, I believe we’ve got some ruins to look at?’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [What the fuck is a Nachtkrapp](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nachtkrapp)
> 
> [Housesteads Roman Fort](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Housesteads_Roman_Fort) is really cool. Jake will tell you more about it in the next chapter, but feel free to read up on it in the meantime!
> 
> [Hadrian's Wall Path](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hadrian%27s_Wall#Hadrian's_Wall_Path) which is a thing that exists and I definitely recommend checking it out when you have the chance. Bring your hiking boots and a relatively OK physical condition, because the parts I've mentioned in this fic are not for the faint-hearted!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their visit to Housesteads Roman fort goes about as well as you'd expect, Ezekiel _really_ doesn't like the outdoors and Jake is having the time of his life. A great start to a great trip!

To Ezekiel’s untrained eye, the Roman ruins of Housesteads look like nothing more than a pile of rubble. Neat rubble, rubble that has been stacked up and laid out in squares and circles, but nevertheless, it still looks suspiciously like ancient, dirty and useless bits of rock.

Not to Jake, though. As soon as they make their way through the gate into the fortress, he is off. Dragging Ezekiel along with one hand and gesticulating wildly with the other, he starts talking about _principia_ and _praetorium_ and _horrea_ , with so much enthusiasm that it doesn’t take long for Ezekiel’s initial disinterest to disappear. And it doesn’t take long at _all_ before he starts following Jake out of his own free will because hang on, cowboy, you’re really telling me they had _central heating_ in their bath houses back then? _How?_ Also, they lived here with _how_ many men? _And_ horses? No wonder he can still smell the testosterone in here, holy shit.

Part of it is play, of course, but mostly, Ezekiel has to admit that all this stuff really is rather fascinating. As long as it is Jake leading the way, explaining everything both in great detail and throwing in more than enough gory tidbits to make Ezekiel laugh and pull faces at the same time, history suddenly seems a lot less boring.

Ezekiel is not the only one who thinks so. There are about a dozen other people, wandering around through the knee-high leftover walls, decked out in hideously practical hiking gear and reading out loud from their little guidebooks, ooh-ing and aah-ing all the way. It doesn’t take them long to spot the weirdly knowledgeable and enthusiastic American and before Ezekiel realizes what’s happening, Jake’s rambling has acquired an audience of subtle and not so subtle eavesdroppers. A gaggle of brightly colored windbreakers oh so casually follows them from the remains of the barracks to the latrines, which have Jake almost bouncing with glee because _these are the best preserved latrines in Britain, Jones._

‘So they’re bloody ancient loos, is what you’re saying?’

‘Oh, shut up and come here, look. Now, what they did back then was…’

‘Ehm… excuse me?’

That last voice belongs to an elderly lady, clutching a guide book in one hand and beckoning her equally elderly friend over with the other. They are both wearing matching water- and windproof jackets and muddied boots, and they both give off a kind of indestructible outdoors vibe. Ezekiel is completely not surprised to learn that these two are walking the entire trail, west to east, despite the both of them looking to be well into their sixties. And they have had the most wonderful time so far, but their guide book unfortunately is not that extensive, they have gotten lost a couple of times (which is quite a feat, since Cassandra has told Ezekiel that the trail is more or less a straight line and almost impossible to lose) and they could not help but overhear Jake talking and he seems to know _so much_ about all of this and would he mind…?

Not at all. Jake smiles and tells Irene and Karen Sheffield that he’d be more than happy to answer their questions. Emboldened by this, more and more hikers work up the courage to join them until Ezekiel finds himself completely surrounded by a dozen people, most of them the same kind of elderly sandal wearers (or in this case, hiking boots wearers) as the Sheffield ladies. Meanwhile, Jake is having the time of his life holding an impromptu Roman Army Architecture 101 lecture. All that’s left for Ezekiel to do is hang back and watch, and try to contain the fondness that is swelling in his chest at the sight.

That last bit is doomed to fail, obviously. He does snap a picture, however, of Jake standing on a slightly higher bit of grass, his hair blown in all directions in the wind, his blue eyes bright with enthusiasm, one arm pointing at something in the distance while the silver-haired windbreaker crowd listens in rapt attention.

And of course Ezekiel texts this picture to Cassandra. You know, now that he still has some sort of cell signal. _Best idea ever, princess._

The reply is almost immediate: _Oh my god. Zeke, I’m so sorry._

_Yeah yeah. Save that for when we finally get underway._

\---

They do finally get underway about an hour later, when the alarm on Ezekiel’s phone buzzes. Yes, he’s set an alarm for when it’s time to go. He’s not an idiot and he knows his cowboy. That being said, it takes a while to pry Jake loose from his admirers, and the Roman ruins.

‘Jones, according to these directions, it’s a little over six miles to the B&B. We do not need three hours to walk six miles.’

‘You mean _you_ don’t need three hours, mate. I still want to have some of my feet left tomorrow.’

However, after a little more grumbling and a last, longing look at the Roman fortress behind them, they set off. But not before Karen Sheffield has grabbed Ezekiel by the arm and told him in a conspiratorial and carrying kind of whisper: ‘You’ve got yourself a good one there, boy. Take care you don’t lose him.’

As if Ezekiel needs to be told that. ‘I won’t,’ he says, with a sidelong glance at Jake who is surveying the surroundings with a suspiciously innocent look on his face. Fifteen feet away, Irene Sheffield is watching them with a curiously fond smile. Looking back at Karen, Ezekiel flashes a grin and winks. ‘You take care of yours as well.’

Karen grins back. ‘Don’t you worry. I will.’

\---

_Then_ they set off.  Jake takes the lead, because the first quarter mile of the trail passes through a small woodland, and is too narrow for them to walk side by side. Also, he carries the folder with directions Cassandra gave them and when outdoors, Ezekiel has greater trust in the cowboy’s sense of direction than his own. _Not_ that he’d ever say that out loud, of course.

And for the first mile or so, it’s nice. The trail leads them up and down a number of steep hills ( _crags,_ Jake calls them. _Bloody mountains,_ says Ezekiel), so the going is slow, but that doesn’t matter. The weather is holding up uncharacteristically well for this time of year and this part of England, the trail is challenging but well-kept and easy to follow, and Jake is in a better mood than Ezekiel has seen in weeks. Ezekiel even finds he kind of starts liking the exercise, because despite all his bitching about staying indoors, his physical condition is actually no worse than Jake’s. Spending four years running after (or from) all kinds of monsters and creatures, let alone lugging heavy Library tomes around, will take care of that.

So, the walking and being active isn’t the problem. The problem isn’t even being outdoors, per se. No. The thing that starts making Ezekiel uneasy the further they walk along, is the quiet.

They are climbing another crag, carefully placing their feet on the stone slabs that form a makeshift stairway to the top, when it strikes him. They have left the bustle of the Roman fort far behind by now. There are no other hikers in sight, neither in front of them nor behind and the only sound is the rustling of their legs through the high grass and the lonely scream of a buzzard somewhere far away. Jake has gone quiet as well, in that I’m-becoming-one-with-nature way that takes him whenever they go outside for more than an hour. They have been walking in companionable silence for about thirty minutes now and Ezekiel can’t help but feel a slight unease start to crawl under his skin.

When they finally reach the top of the crag, they pause a minute to get their breath back before making their way down again. They also take this moment to take in the view, which is both breathtaking and incredibly lonely. To their right, the Wall stands at about hip-height and beyond that, there is a steep drop of several hundred feet into the valley below. And beyond _that,_ nothing. No roads, no houses, no sign of human life whatsoever. Just miles and miles of endless grass and sky, disappearing in the distant blue haze of the horizon.

To their left, the crag slopes down gently into more grassland. It is dotted with trees and there are the outlines of buildings in the distance, so it is slightly less desolate looking. But only very slightly. There’s not even any sheep here, and although Ezekiel has never particularly liked or disliked sheep, right now, he would give anything to see another living creature beside him and Jake. He can’t help it: he is a city boy, through and through, and all this loneliness and emptiness… it’s too big. It makes him feel too small, too vulnerable, too exposed. There’s nowhere to hide around here and there is nothing to prove that all of civilization hasn’t fallen away and that only him and Jake are left, walking alone on top of an empty world.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he breathes in, suddenly realizing that that is a thing you’re supposed to do.

‘You alright?’ Jake asks, worried face inches away from Ezekiel’s.

Ezekiel breathes out slowly. Then he swallows and nods, and even tries to flash a grin. ‘Sure am, cowboy,’ he drawls, but Jake isn’t having it.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, tightening his grip on Ezekiel’s shoulder. That little touch is enough to steady Ezekiel even further, bring him back from the edge of panic until he can give Jake another smile. A real one this time, a lot less cocky and a lot softer than before. ‘I’m okay,’ he says, not even bothering to hide how he’s leaning into the arm that’s now wrapped around his back. ‘I’m okay, it’s just… I’m not used to…’

He waves his arm in a sweeping gesture to indicate the nothingness around, and Jake chuckles. ‘Not used to all this nature, are ya?’

Ezekiel glares. ‘Not used to all this _space,_ cowboy. Never been anywhere that didn’t have street signs or, you know. Other people around.’

Jake chuckles again. ‘You’ll get used to it,’ he promises and gives Ezekiel’s back a firm rub before he lets go and starts making his way down the hill.

\---

Ezekiel doesn’t know if he’s really getting used to not seeing any sign of life for miles around, but the rest of their hike is a lot less scary.

Maybe it’s because Jake has suggested, once they had made it safely down another crag, that they play a game called Faked it or Made it, in which one of them tells the other an outrageous story that is either completely fake, or completely true. The other then has to decide whether to call bullshit or not, and that is how Ezekiel discovers that his cowboy has not only _met_ one of the most notorious art thieves and grifters in the world, but that the two of them did a lot more than just discussing Rembrandt’s mastery of light and shadow.

‘Mate, you’re having me on. You did _not_ pull _Sophie Devereaux. Bullshit.’_

‘To be fair,’ Jake continues with such a shit-eating grin that Ezekiel _has_ to believe him, even though he really, _really_ does not want to, ‘I didn’t know who she was until both she and the Rembrandt were gone the next morning. That was a bit of a bummer.’ His eyes lose focus a little as he stares into a distant memory. ‘Though not that much,’ he concedes with another happy grin, and Ezekiel nearly turns around on the spot and starts marching all the way back to Housesteads by himself.

Nearly. Because now it’s his turn.

‘No. Nope. Uh-uh. No way.’

‘Yes. Yeah. Uh-huh. Yes way.’

Jake glowers. ‘Jones, you did not steal the Pink Star diamond. I’d have heard about that, believe me.’

Ezekiel grins back, undaunted. ‘What can I say, cowboy. Pink’s my favorite color.’

\---

They continue their way like this, bickering and telling stories, each more outrageous than the last. Until they are, once again, standing at the top of a crag (‘almost there,’ Jake promises, but tell that to Ezekiel’s feet) and Ezekiel looks down into the gap below.

And frowns.

‘Why does this look familiar?’ he asks, turning around to Jake who is standing behind him.

Jake takes a step forward and looks down as well. Below them is nothing all that special, which is exactly the thing that has Ezekiel puzzled. It’s just a little valley with the Wall on one side, more grass on the other and a huge sycamore tree smack dab in the middle, looming over it all like it owns the place.

‘Dunno,’ Jake says. He grabs the folder with directions and starts thumbing through it, then stops and laughs out loud. ‘Oh, I see.’

He looks up and favors Ezekiel with a slightly evil grin. ‘You watch a lot of Robin Hood movies when you were a kid?’

Ezekiel did, as a matter of fact. But how Jake suddenly knows that, is beyond him. That was _not_ something he ever thought he’d have to share.

‘It’s Sycamore Gap,’ Jake explains, still grinning. ‘It’s where they filmed Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves. Didn’t think you’d be such a fan as to recognize it on sight, though.’

‘Oh, shut up cowboy.’

\---

After the Robin Hood Tree, it’s another grassy, craggy mile to their stop for the night. To the Twice Brewed Inn in Once Brewed, which has Jake determined to find out what the story is before they have to leave. Ezekiel is curious as well, but not as curious as he is to find out whether they have anything decent to eat in this place. He’s heard people say that being outdoors makes you hungry, but he didn’t know it could make you absolutely _ravenous._

‘It’s the fresh air,’ Jake laughs as they sit down in the pub below the B&B. ‘Not all bad, huh?’

Ezekiel decides to ignore him. He can barely hear Jake over the rejoicing chorus of his feet finally being allowed to rest, and besides, he is way more interested in the menu that their host is handing out to him.

\---

A quite heroic quantity of fish ‘n chips later, it is still rather early. But Ezekiel has been awake since five in the morning, he has spent more than two hours listening to Dr. Jacob Stone rambling on about Roman ruins and he has walked more than six miles non-stop (‘No we’re not taking a break, we’re almost there’/’You said that an hour ago!’) over bloody steep stupid hills. Jake can stay in the pub and chat up the locals all he wants, but Ezekiel is going to bed.

One brief but gloriously hot shower and two popped and band-aided blisters later, he sinks himself into the impossibly comfortable mattress and closes his eyes, fully expecting to be out in two minutes.

It takes him a while, however. Like earlier in the afternoon, the room is too quiet. There is no traffic noise outside, and there are no streetlights to cast a glow into the darkness. It’s unnerving, and although it doesn’t scare Ezekiel as much as before, it also means he can’t relax enough to fall asleep.

Until the door to the room cracks open and ten minutes later, the mattress at the other side of the bed dips under a heavy weight slipping under the covers.

That helps. Because as soon as he has reached out and wrapped himself around his cowboy, who, for the record, is completely fine with this, Ezekiel’s eyes fall closed and he gently floats away into a deep and dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am physically incapable of not including Leverage cameos in my Librarians fics. No, I am not sorry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst and Emotional Hurt/Comfort time! Yay! (Don't worry, it ends on fluff. I won't hurt my boys without making up for it).

 

‘I put everything into that company.’

The words are quiet, almost inaudible in the pitch-black darkness of the room. Ezekiel isn’t sure if he is supposed to hear them. He doesn’t even know why he woke up, what time it is, or why Jake has chosen this moment, in the middle of the fucking night, to finally start letting things out, when there are six miles of English countryside behind them in which he could have done exactly that.

‘Everything,’ Jake repeats, even softer now. His voice is muffled even more by Ezekiel’s shoulder, because Ezekiel is still curled around him like a child around its favorite teddy bear. ‘ _Everything._ And he just goes and… he just…’

There’s a thickness to the words now that sets all kinds of alarm bells clanging inside Ezekiel’s head. He shifts a little, carefully letting Jake know that yes, he’s awake now and he can hear what Jake is saying. If that’s what Jake wants, and if not, he should shut up now.

Jake stills for a moment and Ezekiel holds his breath, waiting for the cowboy to inevitably draw back and stop talking. But then, after a long moment of absolute silence, Jake heaves a long, heavy sigh and says: ‘I wanted to leave, you know.’

Ezekiel frowns, because he didn’t. Then he remembers that Jake probably can’t see. ‘I didn’t know that,’ he replies softly, tightening the arm he has around Jake’s back and letting his other hand trail upwards into Jake’s hair. After a moment’s consideration, he decides _to hell with this,_ and asks, voice still rough with sleep: ‘Where… where did you want to go?’

‘Everywhere,’ Jake says, slowly relaxing despite the fact that Ezekiel now has him in something very close to a death grip. ‘Anywhere. Just as long as it wasn’t Nowheresfuck, Oklahoma.’ He shifts, turning his head so that he is no longer smothered by Ezekiel’s shoulder. ‘Somewhere I could be… doing what I wanted to do. See everything I read about. Write and publish under my own damn fucking name because no one gave a rat’s ass.’

The words _Somewhere I could be me_ hover invisibly but heavy above them in the darkness. Ezekiel says nothing: he just cards his fingers through Jake’s hair and listens, while trying not to think of all the ways he knows to make Isaac Stone’s life a living hell.

‘I got letters from Yale, Cambridge, the fucking _Sorbonne,_ even,’ Jake continues, the anger in his voice now giving way to a dull kind of pain, and yeah, Isaac Stone is doomed. ‘And I never went. Because I knew that as soon as… as soon as I left, it would only be a matter of time. Before he’d ruin everything and I didn’t... I didn’t want to let that happen.’

‘I’m sorry.’

The words don’t really do justice to the ache that’s building in Ezekiel’s chest, the way his heart is breaking for this stupid brilliant cowboy who cares way, _way_ too much for his own good. But it’s the only thing he can think of to say and Jake merely gives a soft, sad little laugh in response before relaxing even further, so maybe he understands what Ezekiel is not saying after all.

_It’s not your fault. I know it feels like it is. Because you’ve got a heart that’s way too big for you, you are so used to carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders and you feel responsible for everything that goes wrong. But it’s not. It’s_ not _your fault. For fuck’s sake, he never even let you share in the company’s profit when there still was any, or, you know. Put your name on the bloody business cards._ How _is this your fault? You should’ve left when you first had the chance, not wait ten, fifteen, twenty fucking years before Eve Baird came along to physically drag your ass away. I’m sorry, cowboy, I am so sorry that that good-for-fucking-nothing human shitstain that calls himself your dad made you so afraid to leave. And now you have finally found a better place to be, thank god for that, and your dad’s company has gone to shit, like you knew it would, and I know how bad it hurts but it’s_ not _your fault. It’s_ not _._

Ezekiel doesn’t say any of this, but he holds Jake as tight as he can without doing any physical damage and that’s kind of the same thing.

\---

The next morning, when Ezekiel wakes up, the other half of the bed is empty.

It takes him a while to wake up completely, then to assess where he is, what he is doing here and why all his leg muscles are yelling at him this early in the morning. When he has gone from _sad cowboy_ to _brilliant idea Cassandra_ to _did that talking last night happen or not,_ it takes him another moment to convince himself that Jake has _not_ fled back home after suddenly opening up and admitting he has emotions. Instead, he grabs his phone and finds that Jake has, very considerately, left him a message.

_If you ever wake up, there’s breakfast downstairs._

_Brilliant_ is a thought that is coming directly from Ezekiel’s stomach. So after negotiating for a minute with his legs and feet, he manages to get out of bed, gets himself dressed and makes his way downstairs, to the same pub where they had dinner last night. It’s a cozy, homey place, all exposed brick, wooden beams and a carpeted floor that has probably seen one world war, and maybe even two.

Jake looks right at home there, dressed in soft flannel and sitting at a wobbly table near the window, looking out over the rolling hills in the distance. He doesn’t notice Ezekiel walking in; he is staring outside, eyes locked on something miles and miles away. There’s a smile playing around the corners of his mouth, though, and there is no sign of the tension that has been there all week. So Ezekiel breathes out and makes his way over, a smile tugging at his own mouth as he sits down and Jake slowly blinks back into this reality. ‘Morning, cowboy.’

‘Hey,’ Jake says, covering Ezekiel’s hand with his own and giving a quick squeeze by way of greeting. ‘Good to see you finally managed to wake up.’

‘You said breakfast,’ Ezekiel replies, an explanation, question and almost an accusation in one. Because yes, he’s awake and all, but the table is still very empty. He also laces his fingers through Jake’s and squeezes back, because.

‘It’s coming,’ Jake assures him. ‘Gave ‘em the order ten minutes ago, figured you’d be up by the time it got here.’

Ezekiel yawns. ‘Please tell me you got me a pot of tea, at least.’

\---

Jake has gotten Ezekiel a pot of tea, in fact. And a Full English, with all that that entails: sausages, fried tomatoes, baked beans, toast, bacon, eggs and mushrooms. Ezekiel loses no time in wolfing all this down, because he is once again _starving._ And also, it has been ages since he has had a proper breakfast like this, because Librarian duty usually does not lend itself to long and languid mornings. The speed with which he shoves everything inside would have Jake shaking his head and tell him to slow things down, if the cowboy wasn’t too busy attacking his own plate of heaped fried goods.

 ‘Did you find out the story?’ Ezekiel finally asks around the last mouth of beans and toast. Jake looks at him with eyebrows raised and goes ‘hmmm?’ He can’t say anything else; there’s too much bacon in the way.

‘About this town. And this pub. Why it’s called… what was it? Brewed twice over?’

Jake swallows his bacon in one heroic gulp that hurts Ezekiel’s esophagus just by looking at it, and grins. ‘I did, actually. Not sure it’s entirely true, but it’s a good story.’

The story is, not entirely surprising for this part of the world, about beer. Once upon a time, there was an army. Different sources say different armies: it might have been a Roman one, although Jake highly doubts that, others say it was a Yorkist army during the War of the Roses. In any case, the soldiers arrived here, plonked themselves down and demanded beer. When this was served, they took one sip, spat it out again and demanded _good_ beer. So the brewer, not wanting to waste anymore of his product than he had to, took the ale, dumped it back into the kettle and brewed it again. Hence, Once and Twice Brewed.

‘That’s a good story,’ Ezekiel agrees with a lopsided grin. ‘And I bet that brewer added some extra ingredients as well.’

After he has mopped up the spray of soggy toast that went flying over the table, Jake has to admit, still wheezing, that yes, the brewer probably did.

\---

Strong black coffee and even stronger black tea wash the entire breakfast down and after an hour or so, Ezekiel can in all honesty say that he feels almost sort of ready for the next leg of their hiking trip. Which is as good as it is going to get.

But not before he has dragged Jake back upstairs and kissed him good morning properly. Just a kiss or two, nothing more, but somehow, the just a kiss ends with the both of them lying tangled on the bed, Jake’s flannel somewhere in a distant corner and Ezekiel’s hoodie hanging off of one of the suitcases near the door. Their pants are still on and everything has been above the belt, but at the end of it, they are still very much out of breath, both of them grinning like a couple of fools. So, the second day is off to a great start.

\---

That is, until Jake tells him that today it’s going to be more crags, higher crags, and nine miles of nothing but nature. It takes all of Ezekiel’s resolve, plus Cassandra’s voice whispering _hot tub_ in his head, to take the first couple of steps out of their B&B.

He has only walked a dozen feet or so, when Jake grabs his arm and pulls him to a stop. Before Ezekiel knows what’s happening, his face is cradled in a large, work-hardened hand and he is pulled into a kiss that’s deeper and leaves him more breathless than their entire make-out session from earlier.

When he is released, it takes him a moment to blink himself back to his senses. That is when he sees Jake watching him with such a soft expression that it makes Ezekiel’s chest ache all over again, for an entirely different reason.

‘What was that for?’ he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jake shrugs, the soft expression slowly making place for a smile. It’s Ezekiel’s favorite smile, where Jake’s eyes go all crinkly, one corner of his mouth quirks up further than the other and it’s open and honest and happy, something Ezekiel hasn’t seen in way too long. ‘You said I could thank you later,’ Jake says. ‘Figured I’d better start now.’


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventure continues! Now featuring the sound of silence, childhood memories, some sheep, a detour and some bad weather (because we are in England after all).

Ezekiel was pretty sure he would never love hiking, or being outdoors, but even so. Their second day of walking was not actually all that bad. The weather wasn’t as bright as yesterday, there was a thin cover of clouds and a breeze that edged just on the wrong side of chilly, but his brand new jacket kept him nice and toasty. After a quarter of a mile, his muscles lost their soreness from the day before and started cooperating again, so that he easily could keep up with Jake, who had promised him that today, they would take a break whenever Ezekiel felt like it.

That promise may or may not have had something to do with certain other promises Ezekiel has made about what they could do _after_ the hot tub, but _only_ if he wasn’t too exhausted from walking. Jake looked very thoughtful for a moment and then nodded and set off without another word, but at a significantly slower pace than yesterday.

That suits Ezekiel just fine. He doesn’t even mind climbing the crags all that much, because at least it keeps the walk from becoming too boring. And he doesn’t know if he really is getting used to the landscape, but standing on top of the second crag of the day, gazing out over miles and miles of empty land, he doesn’t feel the same panic rise again. Instead it is another weird sensation that creeps over him as he looks out over the endless rolling grass, one he’s not sure he likes, but also one that makes him thoughtful rather than scared.

It’s like the quietness that surrounds them, also finds its way inside Ezekiel’s head. Which is always busy, always sparkling and fizzing with new ideas for awesome adventures, impossible heists or a combination of both. He might not be Cassandra, whose thoughts take up so much space that she needs to watch them outside her own head sometimes, but at any given moment, there is definitely a lot going on in his brain.

Until now. He can feel himself slow down, feel the myriad of thoughts come to a gentle halt and then melt away until all that’s left is the sky over his head, the ground beneath his feet and his cowboy next to him, wearing a distant expression that is probably an exact match for the one on Ezekiel’s own face.

Until Jake shakes his head, his mouth quirking up in a soft smile when he looks at Ezekiel. ‘Come on, Jones. Miles to go.’

‘Don’t have to tell me, cowboy.’

\---

‘Did you know I wanted to go here when I was just a kid?’ Jake asks when they sit down for their first break. They are doing this next to the ruins of Milecastle 42 or, as Ezekiel calls it, a square of stones in the grass.

Ezekiel stops rummaging through his backpack for his water bottle and looks up. ‘No?’ he says, not adding that he knows little to nothing about what Jake wanted as a kid. Although, after last night, he might have a pretty good inkling why that is. ‘Why’d you want to come here?’

Jake smiles. ‘There was a book,’ he says, and honestly, Ezekiel should have seen that one coming. ‘A book I must’ve read a hundred times when I was in middle school, about a Roman soldier who went looking for his father in the land beyond the Wall. It was based on a true story, too.’

‘Really?’ Ezekiel asks, lowering the bottle he has finally found. ‘What story?’

Not that he has any interest in books, or long lost Roman dead guys, but still. Ezekiel will never say no to Jake telling him stories, no matter the subject.

Unscrewing the cap on his own water bottle, Jake takes a sip before he continues: ‘It’s a true legend, rather than a true story. And by now there’s more evidence so we sort of can guess what happened. But you know. Bein’ here, the legend doesn’t seem all that implausible either.’ He takes another sip of water and looks at Ezekiel. ‘You ever heard about the Legio nona Hispana?’

Ezekiel can in all honesty say that he has not.

‘It was a Roman legion,’ Jake says, putting the water bottle down and leaning back against the wall (not the Wall. Just an ordinary wall that happens to run along the trail for a bit) and looking into the distance. ‘About 5500 men. Stationed in Britain, quite possibly along the Wall to guard the border, until 120 AD, when they disappeared. The book had it that they went north, to deal with a barbarian uprising, and in the wastelands of Caledonia, they lost their way, they lost their courage, they lost the entire legion and worst of all, they lost the eagle.’

‘The eagle?’ Ezekiel asks, fascinated despite himself.

Jake nods. ‘Their eagle standard. It’s like… the physical honor of the legion. If you’re a Roman soldier and you go to battle, it don’t matter how many men you lose, or how many barbarians you slaughter. You’ve got to keep the eagle with you, or else you have lost everything. That’s what the guy in the book was after, too, when he went looking for his father. He wanted to find the eagle of the Ninth Legion.’

He pauses, glancing at Ezekiel and smiling at the rapt attention he finds there. ‘Of course, now we know they probably never went that far north,’ he says. ‘It’s more likely that they were called south instead, either to Judea or Parthia. They probably met with some kind of disaster along the way, or else they were annihilated in one of the many revolts against the Empire. But still. You know.’

Ezekiel nods. He might not be a history buff, but he can all too easily imagine 5500 men marching into the emptiness that stretches behind them and never return. Vanishing into nothing, and becoming a legend that still fascinates rootin’ tootin’ cowboys to this day.

He may or may not also make a note to look up this book when they return to the Library. You know. Just in case the entire internet disappears or something.

\---

After spending some time contemplating events that happened over nineteen centuries ago, there is nothing that will bring you back to the present day like a sheep. Or in this case, an entire flock of sheep that were minding their own business until Jake opened the gate into their field. Then they looked up, considered these interlopers for a moment and then decided that wherever these two humans are going, it was probably a lot more interesting than their own couple of acres.

It takes a while to shake them. Especially one particularly determined ewe, who seems to have found the love of her life in Ezekiel and refuses to let him leave without her. She is persistent: every time Ezekiel tries to go near the gate at the other end of the field, there is a heavy bump against his knee, followed by an accusatory baa and a baleful, yellow-eyed stare. And no one can do baleful like a sheep.

‘For fuck’s sake, Stone, stop laughing and _help me!’_

Jake, safe on the other side of the fence, doesn’t even bother to look up from his phone. ‘Sorry Jones, what was that? I can’t hear ya.’

‘Baa!’

‘ _Stone!’_

\---

Five minutes later and five thousand miles away, Cassandra’s phone buzzes.

_I owe you just for this._

Once she is finally done laughing, once she has her breath under some semblance of control again and she has wiped most of the tears away, she texts back, fingers still trembling: _You are so very welcome._

And bursts out laughing again.

\---

When the wildlife has finally been vanquished, they move on. Walking and climbing the crags in silence for a while, until they turn a corner and find themselves smack dab in the middle of civilization again.

Okay, that’s a stretch. They are in the backyard of a farm, but it’s the first modern building Ezekiel has seen in two days (not counting their B&B), so he’ll take it. However, before he can enjoy the sight too much, Jake has started talking his ears off again about Roman ruins that are supposed to be here, although all Ezekiel can see is slightly bumpier grass.

‘Come on,’ Jake says, consulting the directions once again. ‘We’re gonna make a detour.’

And he’s gone.

Before Ezekiel can blink, Jake has set off at a right angle from the trail, which he is _not_ supposed to because this hiking is already exhausting enough without taking any bloody detours. Muttering and cursing about bone-headed cowboys who have no consideration for their suffering boyfriends, Ezekiel follows because it seems to be the only way to get Jake back. And more importantly, to get the directions to the B&B back, because Ezekiel is _not_ spending the night outdoors as well.

He finds Jake and the directions standing still about 250 feet away, which is a relief. Ezekiel loves his cowboy, he really does, but trailing after him for even half a mile longer than he absolutely has to? Ezekiel isn’t sure if his love goes _that_ deep.

‘Hot tub’s that way, cowboy,’ he says, walking up behind Jake and pointing. Jake turns and smiles, and that is when Ezekiel sees the sunlight glinting of the piece of stone Jake is standing in front of. It’s a familiar kind of glint, and when he draws closer, he sees the pile of coins, some old and rusty and others still fresh, heaped on top of what looks like some kind of ancient pillar.

‘It’s an altar to the gods,’ Jake explains. ‘Only original one left along the Wall. Seems like people are still stopping by here.’

Ezekiel grins. ‘Makes sense. When you’re out here, you’re gonna need all the help you can get.’

And takes off his backpack to start looking for his wallet.

‘Jones, what are you doing?’

‘Like I said, mate. All the help we can get.’ Ezekiel puts his backpack back on and shows Jake the pound coin he fished out. ‘Any suggestions who I should leave this to?’

Jake’s initial surprise quickly disappears and makes place for a thoughtful expression. Then he reaches for his wallet as well.

‘For you, I’d say either Mercury, or Laverna. And as for me…’ He plucks another pound coin out of his wallet and holds it high, so it catches the sunlight. ‘This one’s for Apollo.’

\---

There must have been something wrong with their offering, however, because two miles later it finally starts to rain. No, it starts to pour, a heavy flood of water that comes down all at once and that would have soaked them to the skin if they hadn’t made a run for the first and only shelter they have seen today. So that’s a stroke of good luck, at least.

It’s not much, just a couple of bathrooms, an overhanging roof with some picnic benches and the tiniest shop slash café Ezekiel has ever seen. But it’s sort of dry, the bathrooms are an absolute blessing and even more so the tea and chocolate chip cookies that Jake procures for them while they wait out the rain. The rain that patters on the tiled roof and splashes into the mud on the ground, drips off the overhanging beams and is generally having way too much fun to let up anytime soon.

In that moment, Ezekiel finds himself oddly content with the situation. His feet hurt, he is uncomfortably cold and damp despite his jacket, he has come closer to more nature than he ever wanted to see and after half an hour, the tiny shelter is already packed up with aggressively social and equally soggy hikers who can’t resist making small talk with _everybody._

But there’s also a heavy arm around his back and a large hand tracing slow patterns into his jacket, a hot cup of fresh tea in front of him and chapped lips brushing against his cheek in an almost bashful kiss. And as Ezekiel leans into Jake’s solid bulk, resting his head against the cowboy’s shoulder and smiling despite himself, those lips move into his hair and the arm pulls him even closer into more solid warmth.

‘Almost there, Jones,’ a rough voice promises him. ‘Almost there.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Jake is talking about is called [The Eagle of the Ninth](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Eagle_of_the_Ninth). It's a pretty cool book, just the thing I'd imagine a little Stone to fall in love with.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We start with a homophobic hiker and end with two bros, chilling in a hot tub, no space between them because they are very, very gay. And also, they have not forgotten about their girlfriend waiting for them at home, oh no.

The hikers that are standing packed together in the tiny shelter, or huddling on the picnic benches clutching steaming styrofoam cups while dripping gently on to the floor, are, in general, a social bunch. They are not the kind of people Ezekiel usually associates with, but they are friendly and although he normally abhors small talk, right now Ezekiel is all too happy to spend fifteen minutes talking about butterflies with a man named Bob, who not only sports a magnificent beard, but also looks exactly like Ezekiel imagines someone who studies butterflies for a living to look like. Meanwhile, Jake is chatting amicably with a very sturdy looking lady about the Joy of Being Outdoors. She might be associated with Butterfly Bob, Ezekiel doesn’t know. All he knows is, that he is still oddly content to be here, even more so because their walk is almost done and the hot tub is now only two miles away.

Until a discordant note enters the friendly chatter. It isn’t obvious at first, but after Butterfly Bob has finally left to get some more tea, Ezekiel feels an itchiness grow at the back of his neck that has nothing to do with being outdoors with no internet signal for the second day in a row.

He tenses and straightens up from where he is still half slumped against Jake. Looking around the huddle of hikers, it doesn’t take him long to spot it: the small, skinny guy with a couple of thin black strands of hair plastered to his skull, shooting narrow-eyed looks his way and then bending over to whisper something in his friend’s ear.

He is subtle, Ezekiel grants him that. But he is also willing to bet a lot of pretty, shiny things that whatever the guy is saying to his friend, is not exactly favorable.

‘Somethin’ wrong?’ Jake murmurs. He has also looked up, and spotted the same thing Ezekiel has.

‘Not yet,’ Ezekiel mutters back. Then the guy turns and, catching their eye, gives them a disgusted expression and a hand gesture that Ezekiel really, _really_ wishes he didn’t know. Next to him, Jake is suddenly bristling, tense as a bow. As are a couple of other people who happened to look in the guy’s direction and have caught on what is happening.

‘Now there is,’ Ezekiel sighs, giving the black combover a friendly smile in response. ‘Stone, stay here. Don’t move. And be ready to leave when I get back, okay?’

‘Jones, what are you…’

But Ezekiel is already gone. Slipping out of the picnic table and making his way through the windbreakers until he disappears from view for all of two minutes, when he rematerializes next to Jake, still looking tense but with an unpleasant gleam in his eyes. ‘Stone, we’re leaving. Now.’

Jake doesn’t argue. He just grabs their backpacks and leads Ezekiel through the throng of people out of the shelter and back on to the trail. It is still raining, although the worst of it has passed by now. Besides, they have only about an hour left to walk, and their waterproof jackets should keep them warm and dry enough until they reach the B&B.

‘What did you take?’ Jake asks, after they have left the shelter far enough behind. The only other sound around is the squelching of their boots and the patter of water on the trees that are lining the trail; otherwise it is once again very quiet.

‘Just his wallet,’ Ezekiel replies, fishing a leather rectangle out of his pocket and tossing it ten feet away behind them, where it lands in a puddle with a wet splat. ‘Someone’ll find it, eventually.’

Jake frowns. ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Stone, if you think I’d let that…’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

Now Jake’s eyes are gleaming unpleasantly, and Ezekiel pauses. ‘…what do you mean?’

Jake grins. ‘Did you see what he was wearing?’

‘Black coat. Jeans. Sneakers.’

‘Exactly. If he is setting out now, which I think he is because those shoes were clean, okay, then he is gonna have to climb them crags, which are now wet and slippery as hell, in his jeans and sneakers. And did those shoes look waterproof to you?’

Now it’s Ezekiel’s turn to grin and he shakes his head. ‘Nope.’

‘So he is gonna walk a dozen miles with wet feet,’ Jake continues, his grin now growing unabashedly evil. ‘In jeans that will start chafing like a bitch after the first half mile or so and, if it starts raining again which I think it will, won’t dry again for ages. And he’s only got three hours ‘till sunset, too, so he better hurry his ass up if he wants to get to Once Brewed before dark.’

Ezekiel stops and, turning around and looking back, starts to laugh out loud. ‘Oh, he is gonna be in trouble.’

Jake’s grin is bright enough to be seen from space. ‘Oh yes.’

\---

For Jake and Ezekiel, though, the crags are finally over. The final part of the trail leads them through fields that, though wet, are mercifully devoid of steep climbs (though not of sheep. Cassandra might get another couple of messages later that night). There are even short stretches of road appearing in between all the grass, which is just about the sweetest sight Ezekiel has ever seen.

About an hour later, they finally reach the end of their hike in the heart of a charming little village. As they wait for the owner of the B&B to come pick them up and transfer them to their lodgings, because the B&B isn’t as near the trail as the Twice Brewed Inn had been, they make themselves comfortable in a tea house on the village green. It’s a cozy place, the kind of mom and pop house that has been there for generations and probably will stay there until the end of recorded time, with a clean, wooden interior and lovely comfortable leather couches instead of chairs.

It’s on one of these couches that Ezekiel is now sitting, a pot of steaming tea and a platter of scones with butter, cream and jam on the low table between them. They are the only customers at the moment, and a brief silence has fallen over the room as they both take a moment to breathe and rest their legs.

That is when Ezekiel decides to put his foot in his mouth, sweat and muck and blisters and all.

‘I could help, you know,’ he says, softly watching Jake from over the rim of his tea cup. Jake frowns in incomprehension at first, and then, all at once, all the tension that has slowly melted away during the past nineteen miles is back. But because Ezekiel is a boneheaded idiot sometimes, he presses on: ‘I could… I mean. If, if you wanted to. I got money, lots of money and I’m not using it so… I thought… you know.’

Jake slowly, very slowly lowers his scone. He gives Ezekiel a look that seems to drag on for ages, his mouth working like there are a lot of things he’s about to say and then swallows at the last moment. Ezekiel looks back, silently thinking that now would be an ideal time for a great big hole to appear beneath him and swallow him down.

After a short ice age, Jake deflates. ‘Money’s not the problem,’ he says quietly, as if Ezekiel hasn’t dug deep into the financials of Stone Rigging & Pipeline the moment he heard the business had gone upside down. And he knows Jake is right. Under good management, there is nothing wrong that money couldn’t fix.

‘Money’s not the problem,’ Jake repeats, shaking his head. ‘You could throw all the money in the world at it and… wouldn’t help. Wouldn’t change a damn thing.’

‘I know,’ Ezekiel says. ‘I just… wanted to help.’

Jake nods and drags a hand over his face before he looks at Ezekiel again, a lightness coming back into his eyes that does _not_ make Ezekiel secretly sigh with relief. ‘I know,’ he says. ‘I know.’

He reaches for his scone again, but pauses and then reaches further and takes Ezekiel’s hand instead. ‘Thank you.’

Ezekiel says nothing. He just holds on and drinks the rest of his tea while holding his cup with one hand.

\---

Their host’s name is Duncan, he looks like he joyfully wrestles bears for a living and he promises to have the hot tub ready for them as soon as they get back from dinner at the village pub. Ezekiel has never loved a man more.

\---

The second thing Ezekiel notices about the hot tub, is that it’s huge. It looks like it could comfortably fit at least a dozen people and yet, there seems to be no one else using it. Which is _great._

The third thing he notices, is that the hot tub is positioned so that it looks out over the rolling hills in the distance, the same hills they have just crossed and this time, he can look at them while soaking in hot water instead of traipsing through the mud. Bloody _brilliant._

The _first_ thing Ezekiel notices about the hot tub, is Jake. He is already in the water, leaning back against the side with his arms thrown out wide and his head hanging back, eyes closed and an expression of such pure bliss on his face that it makes something stir and tighten inside Ezekiel’s swim shorts. Jake’s skin is already flushed from the combination of chilled air and hot water, his hair is mussed and standing up in all directions and for one painful moment, Ezekiel regrets his decision to leave his phone safe and dry in their room. Cassandra has arranged all of this; she should at least get a glimpse of the result.

Then Jake opens his eyes, sees Ezekiel gaping at him and grins. ‘Jones, stop staring and get in here. Water’s getting cold.’

It probably isn’t, but Ezekiel doesn’t waste any more time. He pads over, shucks off his flip flops, deposits his XXL bath towel within safe yet easy grabbing distance, and slowly lowers himself into the steaming water as well.

_‘Oooooohshitjesusfuckbloodyfuckinghellthatsgood.’_

Ezekiel can hear Jake laughing but he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the sounds he makes as he sinks himself into the pure heaven of the hot tub. All he cares about is warmth, glorious warmth surrounding him and caressing his aching everything with every movement as he slowly makes his way over to the side where Jake is still chuckling at him. But he’s also holding out his arm and pulling Ezekiel close so that Ezekiel can bask in the double bliss of hot water and hot cowboy, submerging himself until only his head is sticking out of the water and then resting that head against the cowboy’s solid shoulder with a deep and contented sigh.

‘Gotta hand it to ya, Jones,’ he hears Jake murmur, at the same time he feels a stubbled kiss being planted into his hair. ‘Didn’t think you’d make it this far.’

Ezekiel smiles. ‘’M tougher than I look, cowboy,’ he mutters back. He doesn’t open his eyes, but he does reach out until his hand finds Jake’s knee and he can start tracing slow underwater patterns on his leg. ‘And feet grow back, right?’

Jake hums. ‘Sure they do,’ and squeezes Ezekiel tighter. He presses another kiss into Ezekiel’s hair and then falls quiet, letting his own head rest on top of Ezekiel’s, who has absolutely no problem with this. The patterns Ezekiel is drawing on Jake’s leg find an echo in Jake’s fingers on Ezekiel’s arm, in light, unhurried touches that speak of more than words in that moment ever could.

‘But you had fun, right?’ Ezekiel asks after a long moment. ‘You… you liked coming here?’

‘I did,’ Jake says, the smile in his voice drawing out his accent. ‘I really did. And I still don’t know how Cassie talked you into this, but. Thank you.’

Ezekiel says nothing. Just lets himself sink another inch into the water and closes his eyes again.

‘I would have been okay, you know,’ Jake says softly. ‘I would. Might have taken some time, but I… I would’ve been okay.’

He shrugs, making the water lap at Ezekiel’s chin. Ezekiel opens his eyes and looks up, into blue eyes that are watching him with a fondness, a tenderness that still makes Ezekiel’s stomach do flip flops every time.

‘I know,’ he says, drawing himself up a little so that he can catch Jake’s mouth in a kiss. ‘I know. We just thought we’d help you along a little.’

\---

They stay like that for a long time, exchanging soft touches, softer words and the softest kisses. But mostly they are content just so sit, together, to rest and to breathe in the steam and the warmth and each other. Darkness falls and the rain has let up long ago, but they don’t look up to see the stars. The stars will stay where they are, to be looked at another time. But moments of utter quiet and contentment like these are so rare, so precious in a life that is fifty percent running after monsters and fifty percent running _from_ monsters, they are going to savor it to the full.

That is. Until the touches go lower, the words grow from gentle murmurs to growling promises and the kisses become hard and demanding instead of soft and sweet. There’s a fire building inside the hot tub and they just barely make it out in time before it starts burning too hot to contain it any longer. Let’s just say that, as they make their way through the garden and back upstairs, Ezekiel is very glad he has brought his extra-large towel with him.

And not all that much later, Jake discovers that yes, Ezekiel’s feet and legs might need some time before they can behave properly again, but a thief?

A real thief only needs his hands.

\---

And when, some time later, Cassandra’s phone buzzes yet again, it is not with pictures of sheep. Instead it is two blissed out boys, flushed and disheveled and grinning so wide that she can’t help but grin back.

_Here’s something to keep yourself warm tonight, princess. We’ll be back tomorrow._

Followed by a video that has Cassandra turn off the sound and hide her phone under her desk _very_ quickly. So quickly, in fact, that she almost misses Jake’s message following Ezekiel’s: _And we’ll thank you tomorrow too. Promise._

With her face almost the same shade as her hair and her heart thrumming in her ears with anticipation, Cassandra glances around the Annex, at Eve watching her with a far too knowing smile, and risks another peek at the screen. _Can’t wait._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this got... a bit longer than I expected. But hey, I hope it was worth it!
> 
> Also, both Butterfly Bob and the Hot Tub Hotel exist in real life. If you want more details, hit me up on [Tumblr!](http://hedgehog-o-brien.tumblr.com/)


End file.
